


WandaWidow

by rainbowanatomy



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/F, this should have been the show, wandavision - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 15:41:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 10,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29262969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainbowanatomy/pseuds/rainbowanatomy
Summary: "Do oranges normally fly around on their own?""Only in Westview, dear."
Relationships: Wanda Maximoff/Natasha Romanov
Comments: 34
Kudos: 198





	1. Filmed Before a Live Studio Audience

Wanda knows it’s only temporary, deep in the darkest corners of her mind. But on the surface, she knows she is in complete control. She glances across the dinning room table. Natasha Romanov is reading the newspaper, dressed in a sharp light grey suit, black tie to match, feet propped up on the chair next to her. There’s a briefcase by the door and an Indiana Jones-esque hat hanging on the peg above it. Her heart soars at the sight; she is incredibly lucky, after all. Having the power to create _this_ , from -

Wanda feels a sting of mourning blaze through her veins. Pietro. Sokovia. The Vision. Her parents. Even Tony Stark. Her. friends. Her teammates. Natasha, _dead_ , at the bottom of that endless cliff on Vormir.

The oven door rattles, and the egg yolks on the plate in her hands look close to bursting. She squeezes her eyes shut. She can hear the glasses of orange juice on the table move, feel the energy of the fruit she’s begun to levitate. A voice reaches through the haze,

_“Wanda?”_

Her pulse falters once, then begins to steady.

_“Wanda, darling?”_

She opens her eyes slowly as the rattles of her powers cease. The oranges and apples are back in their bowl. The oven door is shut and the eggs are unharmed. Natasha is holding her glass on the other side of the kitchen window and counter, eyes soft with concern. She takes a deep breath, crosses to the other woman, slides the plate of breakfast across to her.

 _“Yes, dear?”_ she asks.

_“Are you okay?”_

_“Why wouldn’t I be?”_

_“Do oranges normally fly around on their own?”_ Somewhere, she makes the laugh track play. Natasha closes a hand over hers, strokes a thumb over the small battle scars fading on the back of her hand. Now Natasha is smirking, feeling the calm control Wanda radiates. She flashes a watery smile, manages a cheeky voice to respond,

_“Only in Westview, dear_.”


	2. Don't Touch That Dial

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter 2! enjoy!

Wanda knows there’s cracks in her foundation, in the world she’s built, in the town she must be taking over. Wanda knows it’s not forever. But her breath is full, heart light, and powers heavy. Natasha checks out the window, in her pin stripe pajamas, eyes roaming the streets for the source of the noises, always a protector, even in Westview. She misses the assassin’s blazing hair.

 _“Natasha, come to bed, dear,”_ she calls softly from her twin bed.

 _“I don’t want anything hurting you,”_ Natasha murmurs, still scanning.

_“No one is going to hurt us here. Come. I have something I want to talk to you about.”_

That gets Natasha’s attention; the other woman gives the street one last glare, then slides slowly into her own bed. With a flick of Wanda’s wrist, the two twin beds slide together, and she leans against her lover.

_“What is it, darling?”_

_“I… Do you think I would make a good mother?”_

Natasha glows at her, kisses the closest exposed skin (her temple). _“You would make the best mother, my love.”_ An audience cooing at the sweet words.

Wanda misses her brother, remembers his gift of kindness, of wit and speed. She remembers her parents, before the bomb, the home they carved for their kids. The dresser drawers quiver, rattle. _“Natasha, do you want kids?”_

_“You know I can’t have them, Wanda…”_

_“I know.”_

_“And I could not give you… erm, you know.”_ Far away, a laugh track plays. She takes a deep breath, wills the rattling to stop. Then she pulls out the corniest tone she can muster.

 _“Well, I_ am _magical, dear… Who knows what could happen?”_

Natasha chuckles, the deep throaty laugh that sends her heart into overdrive, and under the covers, unseen, a hand is wandering up her thigh. Natasha’s other hand tilts her head up, drowns in her eyes. They grin at each other, and she pulls the covers over their heads. It’s enough to even forget the fake audience she’s created. Wanda lets her grief melt away temporarily.

* * *

When she hears the radio speaking to her, she remembers this moment of bliss.


	3. Now in Color

There’s a gaping hole in Wanda’s bookshelf, straight through her wall, into the neighbors’ fences, all the way to the barricade she created. Geraldine, or whatever her name actually is, is on the other side of it. She grits her teeth, then her eyes light up red, and she simply fixes the wall and bookshelf in a breeze. The front door opens. She spins on her heels, poised. The control she felt is slipping. There’s still a stork lost somewhere out there. Natasha stands on the landing. Her eyes are hollow and empty, cheeks hollow, red trickling down the gaping wound in her neck.

_“Wanda, darling? Where’s Geraldine?”_

She gasps, presses her hand to her mouth, blinks. When her eyes open, Natasha is standing there, as pristine as ever, grey eyes gleaming and eyebrows furrowed.

_“She had to rush out.”_

_“Are you okay?”_ Natasha crosses the room to her, hugs her in.

_“Of course, dear, why wouldn’t I be? We have two beautiful boys, I have my loving wife. Everything is perfect and in control.”_

_“In control?”_ Natasha untangles the hug and holds Wanda at arm’s length, eyebrows furrowed again. She feels the tension she’s beginning to radiate. The twins, Billy and Tommy, let out cries, and the tension vanishes that easy.

 _“Nothing, silly, don’t be paranoid. Come on…”_ She lifts Billy and dances him in her arms. _“He wants his mama.”_

Natasha’s grin sends her reeling as her wife holds out her arms for the boy. She passes her Billy, and then lifts Tommy into her own arms. They sit on the couch, cooing into their faces.

She doesn’t think about the sword on Geraldine’s necklace.


	4. We Interrupt This Program

It was dark. The deep indigo of the sky still burns behind Wanda's eyes when she blinks now. Her stolen quinjet landed with a rumbling growl against the stone, and she flung the door open with far more power than she needed. Eyes blood red, she leaps forward, flying to the edge of the endless cliff.

_"Wanda Maximoff, daughter of Viktor Maximoff. I know what you seek."_

She spun, erupting the rocks around her into the air, hovering in her control. Red Skull floated before her, ghostly presence rippling at the bottom.

_"You cannot stop me," her voice steady._

_"The price is the same for everyone, a soul for the stone. Then I will be free again. If you so wish to pay the true price. For what you wish is not possible."_

_"Is that right?"_ She rose, and the rocks followed suit, rising higher behind her. She grinned, wicked and collected, and flexed her fingers. Red Skull was ripped forward, until his form was on his knees before her. _"I know you keep their bodies Take me to them._ Now. _I will not ask again."_

She relinquished her magic over him, let the rocks go, too, thundering around them, dust flying everywhere.

 _"Right this way, Daughter of Viktor,"_ Red Skull rumbled when the dust cleared, and lead the way, her flying behind, eyes still crimson.

The stairs were carved into the side of the great cliff, winding their way down, down, down. Behind her eyes, she still pictures the rush of air, curls blazing out behind her. Neither of them walked; Red Skull ghosted over the pathway, Wanda neglected it entirely, flying next to him, over the air. She blinked. Indigo stung.

It was a long way down.

 _"I make graves for all of those who have been traded,"_ Red Skull told her at the bottom, and gestured over the short row of headstones. They rattled in her presence, red building in size in her palms as she landed in front of the newest two.

 _"She was not_ traded, _"_ she spat, _"She sacrificed herself. Her life for the lives of billions on her home and beyond. And Gamora? Slaughtered by her own father. No chance to aid in the war."_

_"It is not my place to be judge or juror."_

The ground shook. Sweat begun to bead on her forehead. She pushed more. The ground roared.

 _"You said what I seek is impossible, no? You cannot stop me. I am not like those who have come before me. Thanos wielded the stones, yes, but I do not need the them to harness their power."_ With one hand, she waved Red Skull aside and sent him slamming into the rock. _"I was_ reborn _from them."_

With a yell, she ripped the ground she sought from Vormir, and shot through the air with it behind her, in the quintet within moments, allowing to rest on the floor.

 _"Hold on, my love,"_ she whispered, setting the coordinates for Earth and gripping the wheel, _"We're going home."_

The sky is bleeding indigo as the sun sinks behind the horizon. Her knuckles are white as she clutches her tea cup, staring out the window.

Hands cover her eyes and she shrieks.

The tea cup shatters on the ground.

 _"Hey, hey, darlin, it's just me,"_ Natasha coos softly, letting her go and spinning her around.

 _"Oh, my,"_ she manages, heart hammering against her ribs, _"You startled me."_

 _"You looked ten thousand miles away, Wanda, what on Earth were you thinking about?"_ Natasha cups her hands in her own, kisses her fingertips chastely. Her heart rate slows at the gesture.

_"Nothing, my love, just, you know, watching the sunset..."_

_"It's almost as beautiful as you."_ An artificial 'awwww'. Then Natasha takes a step back and the China tea cup pieces crunch. _"Look at this mess!"_

 _"Like I said, dear, you startled me!"_ It's almost too easy to slip into banter.

_"Well someone's going to have to clean it up, and I don't think it's going to be the one wearing the pants."_

_"Natasha, didn't you take those from my closet?"_

Natasha laughs. _"Who knows at this point! I'll get the broom if you clean up the tea."_

" _No worries, dear."_ She snaps her fingers and the China tea cup rattled back into one piece. She puts it in the sink. _"I think you can get the paper towels. I’ll check on the twins.”_

Natasha beams at her, eyes soft and far too trusting, and agrees.

Wanda wanders over to the other window the cribs rest under. Natasha's red hair reflects back in the glare. Their sons are asleep, and she places a hand on each crib, moves them gently, old Sokovian song whispering out. She stares beyond the window, where indigo has turned to black.

She still sees the color behind her eyes.


	5. On a Very Special Episode...

Everything is making noise. Wanda’s power roars. The twins are crying, the furniture is shaking, she can hear the dishes and cups and cutlery rattling - louder and louder and louder. She wants it all to stop. But her powers didn’t shut them up, her twins just _grew_. In front of their neighbor, Agnes, without any comment. Her head is too loud to care _enough._ Her powers storm and she just wants everything to be _easier_ again.

Natasha’s eyebrows are starting to set in a permanent furrow. First Agnes’ comment to Wanda, then to Wanda’s blatant flaunting of her powers. The kids are quiet, older now, but now with questions no one or nothing will _shut up_. And now there’s a _dog._ She sends Natasha to work. It’s Monday. When it’s very much Saturday.

It’s no longer making sense.

Something is slipping.

She refuses to let it be _her_ control.

S.W.O.R.D. tries, it really does. She destroys the drone. Eyes crimson, she tears into the barrier, steps through to the other side in her Scarlet Witch regalia, what she had been wearing when she saved Natasha. For a few moments outside of Westview, all is finally quiet.

 _“I have what I want. And_ no one _will ever take it from me again,”_ she booms, turning the guns on the man who thinks he’s in charge and fails to realize that _she_ is in charge.

It’s happening far too fast.

The dog is dead and their boys want her to bring it back and there’s indigo behind her eyes and Natasha’s frown as she hugs their boys in comfort.

Natasha is begging for her to tell her what is going on, for her to make it stop, so that these people won’t be in pain anymore. What about _her_ pain, then?

 _“You can’t control me the way you do them,”_ Natasha warns, voice breaking.

 _“Can’t I?”_ Laugh track. Claps. Credits. It never stops.

Natasha presses on, yelling, _“Stop lying to me!”_

Wanda clenches her fists, red, in the air. Natasha stands her ground, with that same intense look that she fell for all those years ago. But this time it’s turned at her, and Natasha admits that she is _scared_. The fight leaves her body. Natasha takes her hand, thumbs soft on their backs.

 _“You are my_ wife _,”_ she whispers, _“You are Tommy’s and Billy’s mother. Is that not enough?”_

She doesn’t know how it started, but she will not slip. She will not lose control. Until something happens.

This time, she swears she doesn’t make it happen. She can see Natasha’s eyes clouded with disbelief, those red curls bounce as she shakes her head, hurt. Wanda crosses to the door.

 _“Wanda, who is that?"_ Natasha asks.

Wanda can see her own eyes reflected back in those of Pietro’s. Pietro, who pulls her into a hug, then takes in Natasha with a cheerful,

_ "Oh, wow, Natasha Romanov! Long time no see!"  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one sucks because it was hard to write for... but anyway, hopefully episode 6 gives me more to work with! very excited! hope you did enjoy in the end though!  
> ALSO if you want to know how Natasha gets through to people, considering she isn't vision?  
> she does what she does best: punches / slaps them...


	6. All-New Halloween Spooktacular!

Things between Wanda and Natasha have gotten worse and it makes her sick. She hasn’t used her powers on Natasha since she wiped her mind upon bringing her back, but Natasha comes down the stairs, anger echoing in each step, retro Black Widow costume donned, and really it’s just a twitch of her pinky that gets her wife to lean in with a smile.

 _“Well don’t you look scrumptious, darling,”_ Natasha coos after the kiss. Wanda blushes.

 _“We’re going to look like a pair of beauty queens out there,”_ she agrees. Pietro fakes gagging noises from behind the couch, and Tommy and Billy follow suit.

 _“Moooooms, gross,_ ” they groan. Pietro fetches them soda in a flash. Her brother has taken more to her wife now that they aren’t teamed up to kill Natasha and the rest of the Avengers. Not that Natasha remembers any of that.

 _“You’ll look like a beauty queen, that’s for sure. You have fun tonight, darling,”_ Natasha tells her, _“Herb asked me to be a part of the neighborhood watch. You know, to keep the hooligans under control.”_

Wanda’s fingers twitch but she holds back the urge. She can’t keep the quiver out of her voice, _“That’s not what you’re supposed to… I mean, I didn’t know you had plans. This is the boys’ first halloween. You have to be there!”  
  
_ Pietro steps between them, all smiles, _“Don’t worry, sis. The boys need some XY chromosome for their first halloween, anyway. Nothing like uncle Pietro to get the trouble twins to become the best pranksters Westview has ever seen.”_

 _“There you go, love,”_ Natasha agrees, _“I’ll see you later.”_ She kisses her, stiff, then calls to the boys, _“Don’t eat all the candy, boys. I want some when I get home._ ”

Wanda watches her go, heart pounding. _This can’t be temporary_ , she tells herself, as she tries to figure out Pietro’s new look.

They run into Herb on the street, who frowns at Natasha’s name. _“She’s not on neighborhood watch… Do you want something changed?”_

 _“No, it’s…. It’s fine…”_ She ignores the pain in her chest at the lie.

* * *

Natasha doesn’t understand what she’s seeing. Her boots echo across the streets that are further and further from the town square. There is no movement. It’s as if Wanda’s powers barely reached the edges. She tries to talk to them, tries to get them to move. Their eyes are blank. She needs to get up higher. She takes off the costume boots, the bulky pieces with no use, and scales the nearest house with practiced ease, scans over the tree tops. Children’s shouts of delight echo up into the air, sounding closer than the silence on the ground tells her. She spots a car in the distance, and artfully leaps off the roof and lands in a run towards it.

Their neighbor, Agnes, sits in the driver’s seat of the park car. She glances around, then jabs her hand through the open window, smacking Agnes’ head into the car seat. The blank look clears up and her neighbor looks up at her, gasping,

“You… you’re one of the avengers! You’re Natasha Romanov, the Black Widow! Are you here to help us?”

Natasha recognizes the nickname that Wanda and people of Westview occasionally call her. _But why would Agnes call me_ the _Black Widow?_ She pushes it off, addressing her neighbor’s questions.

_“I am the Black Widow I am here to help… Avenger? I… I think I was something but-“_

_“What? Why don’t you know? Am I… Am I dead?”  
  
“No? Why would you think that?”_

_“Because you are.”_

_“Because I am what?”_

Agnes shouts dead over and over, a drumming in her head. _Dead?_

 _“No one leaves. Wanda won’t even let us think about it.”_ The woman tosses her head back in laughter and she hits her again, the blank look coming back into her gaze.

_“Agnes, I will fix this.”_

_“Okie dokie neighbor! Happy Halloween!”_

Natasha stands there alone, staring at the other side of Ellis Avenue.

She knows what she has to do.

* * *

Pietro is trying to sympathize. She tries to appreciate it, appreciate getting to confess to her brother, but she still blinks and sees the bullets in his body, his eyes empty of life.

Then she hears her kids calling her name, sees the fear in Billy’s eyes,

_“She’s dying, mom! Mama is dying!”_

Then Pietro cracks a joke about Natasha not being able to die twice.

The anguish, the frustration, the anger that has been bubbling up beneath the surface since he arrives explodes.

Wanda tosses her brother aside with a growl, ignores the shock in her kids’ eyes.

 _“Think hard, Billy,”_ she tells him, _“Where is mama?”_

When he says she sees soldiers, Wanda’s heart races. And so does everything else around her.

She can feel the rattling, louder and louder and louder, her heart against her ribs.

So she pushes, harder than she ever has.

Just like on Vormir.

Red explodes.

The barrier expands, farther, farther, until Wanda is sure Natasha is within it again.

No one is dying. And no one is leaving.

Not when she finally has everything she’s ever loved in one place again.


	7. Trick or Treat - a Little White Lie

Wanda weeps over Natasha's body, head in her lap. She counts each stilted breath, holds her wife's wrist under her fingers, proof that she's still alive. She waits. It should have worked by now. The Halloween carnival is still frozen around her, but its music still plays. Her tears are the only sound she registers.

 _"Natasha,"_ she croons, over and over. She knows their boys are close, watching, a bruised Pietro holding each one with a tight grip on their shoulder. _"Please, my love,_ " she whispers, _"You have to wake up. This was all for you. For us... I can't do this without you."_

 _"Why do you sound like I'm dying?_ " Natasha groaned, pulse picking up under Wanda's finger tips. Wanda takes a choking sob as Natasha opens her eyes. _"What happened? Are you okay?"_

 _"Nothing, darling,"_ Wanda murmurs, sitting her up gently, _"Billy said- he said that you'd gotten hurt out here on watch. We found you here."_ It rakes her heart like coals over fire to lie even more. But it hurts more to know Natasha was trying to _leave_.

 _"Are the boys okay?"_ Natasha's eyes flash to Billy and Tommy, still being held at bay by their uncle. Wanda nods to Pietro and he lets go. The twins rush to Natasha's side, wrapping her in a big hug.

 _"Billy saw you get hurt,"_ Tommy whispers.

 _"I thought you were dying,"_ Billy adds. Both boys' eyes are round with worry.

 _"Do you remember anything that happened?"_ Wanda pressed, fiddling with her wife's curls as Natasha wiped tears from the boys' eyes. She shakes her head.

 _"I'm sure it will come back to you, darling,”_ she adds, leaning forward to kiss her forehead. _“Let’s get you home. The boys will do all the cooking and washing and I’ll take care of you, ok?”_

_Natasha nods slowly, and the three of them help her to her feet._

_“Pietro, take the boys home and get dinner started. No funny business, okay?”_ she tells her brother. He gives her a funny look, but nods, takes the boys’ hands and is gone in a flash. Wanda leans Natasha against her, and as they walk home, she checks the barrier over her shoulder, eyes flashing at Darcy Lewis, who still is still half unconscious 100 yards away. Another problem for another day. Everything is back in her control again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a little post e6 insert just because I want to. may edit if episode 7 addresses this right away.


	8. Breaking the Fourth Wall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> why did my dumbass decide italicizing characters speaking was a good artistic choice? thanks, me from 20 days ago, I hate it.

Wanda's hand stretches across the bed, her eyes still closed. When she feels the silk pillowcase next to her cold and empty, her eyes shoot open. The space in the mattress normally taken up by her Natasha is barren, and her heart twists. She pulls the covers back over her head, trying to ignore the pounding. Her body throbs and she curls in to herself, trying to fight the wave of exhaustion to work her way through the jumble in her head.

_Okay, sure,_ she thinks to herself, _you pushed yourself a bit too hard last night trying to save your wife who was trying to escape the world you built for each other so you could be together forever and never have to deal with the trauma of-_

She cuts herself off before she can get too insightful. She still sees that cursed purple sky when she blinks, she doesn't want to think about it _more_. She squeezes her eyes shut, hoping that when she opens them, Natasha will be staring at her from across the mattress, red curls spilling out around her head like - blood - _fire_ , with a crooked smile that says 'I love you, even with morning breath and eye crust.' When was the last time they'd ever laid together like that?

Certainly before the civil war that cracked open the Avengers, that delicate scale that ricocheted off Captain America's shield and crashed straight into Tony Stark's iron heart. Before she went into hiding with her dear friend, Vision, and barely saw Nat. Tears beaded in her eyes. For a moment, she was that scared little kid again, hiding in a house on a flying city. She remembers taking Natasha's hand for the first time, their beginning. They watched the Hulk fly away on a stolen quintet. It took several months, but Wanda had slowly chipped through the Black Widow's steely defenses. Natasha had smashed through hers, but was so clueless to it, stunned at how fast Wanda kissed her the moment the assassin's feelings were revealed. She feels their first kiss on her lips now, like a ghost. They had been so _happy_ for the first couple of weeks. But leave it to Natasha's spy tendencies to investigate any cracks in a facade. She wasn't about to put her own girlfriend, partner, wife under her control. Not for anything beyond that one second when she so desperately needed affection and not anger. The room rattles. She opens her eyes, takes a deep breath. The room goes quiet.

Probably just a case of the Mondays.

The door flies open and the twins race in.

_"Mom, when are you coming down?”_ Tommy asks at the same time Billy goes, _"Are you still asleep? Our game keeps freaking out.”_

She sighs, the memories quieting for the moment. She pulls back the covers. _"Mommy's not sleeping, boys, she's just resting her eyes."_

_"Mom, my head hurts,"_ Billy complains, _"It's so loud!"_

_"Resting. Her. Eyes,"_ she returns, throwing the covers back over her head. She waits until they leave before kicking them off, suddenly too suffocated by them. She half registers the costume still Lycra-snug on her body, before the headache and exhaustion overwhelm her again. The bed creeks as she shifts, rolls out of it, feet hitting the floor with a dull thud. Ever since she added kids into the mix, the mornings have gotten louder. She opens the window, feels the spring air ruffle her bedraggled hair. People bon around underneath her, going about their delegated tasks, but no tell-tail fire -blood- red hair in the sea of brunettes and blondes and ravens.

She doesn't even remember Natasha getting up. She helped her wife home, supporting her longer than the woman needed, happy to be flush against her side. She tucked her in with water and a sandwich, made sure the boys were fed before promptly flinging “Pietro" out of her house in one last energetic rage of red, sent the boys to their room, and then tumbled into bed next to her wife, who was looking at her with round loving eyes. Her heart flared.

_"Hi,_ " she whispered.

_"Hi,"_ Natasha whispered back, small smile on her face.

_"Anything coming back to you?"_

_"Just... this woman's face."_

_"Who?"_ she hoped, voice peaking, trying to feign interest.

_"I don't know, probably nothing."_

_"I'm so sorry, my love."_

_"It's okay, darling. I'm just really tired."_

Wanda thought of the sweat that had cooled on her back and forehead from exerting her powers so much. _"Me, too. Come here."_

They moved towards each other, and she placed a tender kiss on Natasha's lips, before wrapping her arms around her waist. They'd fallen asleep like that, tangled up. But if Natasha didn’t want to be here right now, so be it. Ice creeps into her veins. If Natasha realized she had lied to her…

The room flickers around her, and suddenly the photos on the night stand are black and white. The chair fizzles into something else.

_What the hell is going on?_

She presses the heels of her hands to her eyes for a moment. _I’ve got this._ Her aching muscles scream otherwise. She turns to the mirror, picks at the Lycra, and heads to the closet to change. The boys call up the stairs, something about their game acting up. _Kids_ , she sighs, grabbing her comfiest sweats and slippers. They shout her name again and she troops downstairs.

_"What's wrong?"_ she asks, gliding passed them to the kitchen to start the coffee.

_"Our game keeps changing!”_ Billy says, following her with a controller, that shifts from Xbox to PlayStation2.

_"It's probably just playing a little prank on you, sweetheart, nothing to worry about."_ She ruffles his hair, much to his displeasure.

_"But-"_

_"It's_ okay _, Billy. It's fine. It's just video games. Let mom make her coffee."_

He frowns and her heart squeezes. _I don't know what's going on, either!_ she wants to yell, feels the words pushing against her lips, _I'm sorry I can't make anyone happy right now!_ But he goes back to the living room. She stands in front of the coffee maker, the streamlined drip, drip, drip echoes louder, louder, louder against her temples. The machine shivers, changes, then shifts back. She blinks, unphased, entranced by the noise.

Drip.

Innocents' blood dripping from her fingers.

Drip.

Natasha's voice, strong and vengeful, _'She's not alone.'_

Drip.

She's standing on the battle field, in front of Thanos, who Natasha sacrificed herself to stop, and she's alone. Her fist clenches around her mug so tight her knuckles go pale. The cabinets rattle. Silverware clinks against each other in the drawers. She's _alone_.

The coffee maker beeps to signal its end. She blinks, slow, as the room quiets. She pours herself a mug, grabs a bowl, fruit loops, and milk. The milk carton changes as she moves through the kitchen. She doesn't look at it directly, just tosses it back into the fridge and swans into the living room with her coffee and mug.

_"Mom,"_ Tommy starts.

_"Yes, dear?"_ She takes a sip, let's the caffeine fizzle through her bloodstream. It doesn't the ache but at least it tastes good.

_"When Uncle P said... about killing your dead wife twice? What did that mean?"_

Natasha's face flashes in her head. Hair red as - _blood_ \- fire. Wanda's eyes light up - _fire_ \- blood. She sets her food down on the coffee table, takes a deep breath. Her kids look at each other, shoot her worried looks. She blinks, eyes going back to their normal hazel.

_"Whatever that man said, don't listen to it. He is not your uncle."_

_"Then who was he?"_ Billy asks.

_"And what did he want?"_ Tommy adds.

She grits her teeth. I _don't know what's going on, either!_ She runs the thought through her filter for a moment.

_"Look, boys,"_ she starts, _"I know I'm your mom and I'm supposed to have all the answers but let me tell you a little secret. I don't know either! I have no answers. Zip! Zero! Zilch! I’m starting to think that everything is… meaningless.”_ She tosses back her head, laughs, shoulders shaking. _Too dark?_ Tommy's voice is hesitant as he prompts,

_"Do you know where mama is?"_

_"No.”_

_“Don’t you want to go look for her?”_

_“If your mother doesn't want to be in the house right now, who am I to stop her?"_ She takes another sip of coffee, spoons cereal into her mouth.

_So what,_ she thinks, _I expanded the barriers and lied to my wife about what happens and she probably figured something wasn't adding up? Who hasn't done that? She'll go, punch some trees, and we'll be back to snuggling on the couch by tonight... right?_

* * *

Natasha is standing off to the side of the circus, eyes scanning the cluster of shouts and whoops and hollers. Bits and pieces came back to her as she laid in bed beside Wanda. Pushing through the barrier of Westview. Guns pointed at her. " _Please_ ," she begged, " _You have to save them. They need_ help." She remembers this brunette calling out, " _She needs help! She's dying!_ ", and feeling very, very cold.

_"Oi! You!"_ a muscular man calls, stomping over to her, looking like one of the men who pointed a gun at her last night, "Are you the new contortionist? You're supposed to be practicing with the escape artist right now!" He points over towards the brunette chained to the car. It's the woman from last night. She nods once and heads over.

_"Hi, do you remember me? From last night?"_ Natasha asks. The brunette looks her up and down, purses her ruby-red lipsticked lips.

_"I think I'd remember you."_

She feelings ridiculous, but she pressed on, _"We locked eyes? You_ saw _me. You were trying to help me."_

_"Like I said, I don't know you. And I’m not looking for a girlfriend right now,”_ The brunette yanks her arms apart and the chains fall off her, and starts off in the opposite direction.

_“Girlfri-? Wait!"_ Natasha jogs after her, hair bouncing in the sun, fire red. _"Please, I think... I think Wanda has us all trapped inside Westview, I need your help!"_

* * *

The door opens and Agnes calls in.

_"Oh, hey, Agnes! Come in! I'd get up, but I don't want to,"_ Wanda calls back, settling back in her chair. Agnes comes in all laughs and smiles as usual. She's not quite sure why, but it rubs her the wrong way. But then Agnes offers to take the kids for the afternoon and she dismisses the unease creeping in to her fatigued bones. The neighbor sweeps the boys out of the house like she knows her way around a broom. The door clicks shut behind them.

The room fizzles.

She's alone. As usual.

Wanda watches Modern Family. That is, until it switches to Friends. The chairs change. The TV changes. The plant in the corner. She wills red to her hands and flicks her wrists and the furniture obeys.

_I’m fine_. _I’m fine! I’m fine,_ she thinks to herself, like a ritual chant. If she says it enough times, it will be true.

* * *

_"Okay, okay, fine, I'll go out with you,"_ the brunette says with a heavy sigh, _"But I'm ordering the biggest steak on the menu."_

_"What- no, listen!"_ Natasha balls her fists, squeezes her eyes shut. She takes a deep breath, mumbles _'Sorry',_ then shouts, _"Look! That waiter mime's try is getting too heavy!"_

_"Oh!"_ the brunette's head jerks toward the mimes, _"Your bad back!"_

Natasha's fist collided with the brunette'stemple, a snake striking. The brunette crumpled and Natasha sank to the ground with her, shaking her shoulders awake.

_"Jesus fucking Christ,"_ the brunette spit when her eyes blinked back open, focused on the sky, _"Why did you hit me?"_

_"I'm sorry, it was the only way."_

The brunette jerked at the sound of her voice. _"Natasha? Romanov?"_

_"That's me. Do you remember last night?"_

_"Hold on... my head is still ringing. Do you punch everyone like this?"_

_"No, just the good guys,"_ she found herself half chuckling, _"If I find out you're shitting me, you're dead."_ The brunette's eyes widened. _"What's your name? Your real name?"_

_"Dr. Lewis. Darcy. Darcy Lewis."_

_"Dr. Lewis, I intercepted your message. I need your help. I need to figure out what's going on here. It seemed like you were trying to do that, too."_

Darcy nods. _"Should we take this show on the road?" Her eyes drift over to the ice cream truck idling several meters away._

The muscular man is calling for them. _"You're supposed to be on!! The clowns just finished!"_ Darcy turns around and decks the man across the jaw.

Natasha grins at Darcy. _"Let's go."_ They race for the truck.

_“Dr. Lewis,”_ she asks as they climb in, _“Are my kids_ safe _?”_

_“That, I don’t know.”_ Darcy opens the sun visor and the keys drop into her hands.

_"Where are you going!”_ the muscle man shouts, clenching his face, _“Stop! You're supposed to be on stage!"_

They take off.

_"Sorry!"_ Natasha calls over her shoulder, _"We're double booked! Call our agent!"_

* * *

The furniture revolts again soon after, this time the whole dining room fizzling and changing around her, curtains, table. She turns to take in the whole room and every where she looks things change. That _damned_ stork is back.

_Why this is happening to me? I don’t understand why everything is falling apart! I can’t fix it!_ The panic wells in her, an overwhelming wild ocean.

A voice comes to her, _Do you think this is maybe what you deserve?_

The furrow between her eyebrows depends. She clears her throat.

_What?_ She whirls in search of the voice. Someone reading her mind? Or just her subconscious… She thinks, scowling, _You're not supposed to talk back._

* * *

Natasha’s heart slams against her ribcage. _“So…I’m… supposed to be-“_ She can’t find it in herself to finish the sentence.

_“Dead,”_ Darcy finishes, looking at her from the driver’s seat. Natasha nods once. _“Long story short, her brother died in the battle against Ultron. Then She had to kill Vision-“_

_“Vision?”_ The name flickered in her head, _“Her… best friend, right?”_

_“After you, of course.”_

_“Right… After me…”_ They are stopped at the tenth red light. Somewhere in her head, she wonders if Wanda doesn’t _want_ her to come home. _“Then what happened?”_

_“So, then Thanos reversed that death and she had to watch him die all over again. Then she got dusted. When the remaining Avengers figured out how to reverse the blip, she came back but… you were dead. She came back to no one.”_

A memory, so foggy she swears it’s reminiscent of a dream, swims to the surface. The hot Wakandan sun, Wanda standing in front of some blue-blooded Thanos follower, alone in the sea of aliens. She was sprinting towards her side, reaching it just in time to hear that scum taunt,

_“Look at you. All alone.”_

_“She’s not alone,”_ Natasha announced her presence, squaring up next to her girlfriend. Darcy's babbling brings her back to the present.

“ _Plus, does it ever rain in Westview?_ ” Darcy cuts herself off, then, “Kids?” Darcy shouts, at the crossing guard that’s appeared out of nowhere, “ _COME ON!_ ”

_“She came back alone,”_ Natasha repeats to herself, nausea rising in her. _“So,”_ she says to Darcy, _“What am I now? If I’m not dead anymore?”_  
  
 _“I don’t know. Morgues and dead bodies were never my thing. And I don’t know why you can’t leave the hex,”_ Darcy admits, _“But I’ve been watching WandaWidow for the past couple of weeks and what I do know is… the love you had before? It’s still very real. You belong together.”_

* * *

The room is getting too loud and too tight. She jumps to her feet, nearly slips racing to the kitchen, knocks her hips against the sink. She runs the cool water and splashes it against her cheeks and neck. Shoves two tylenols in her mouth and swallows. Okay, she needs to find Natasha. Needs her other half. Maybe then everything will stop.

_"Wanda!"_

Her veins go cold, then flame fire - blood - red.

_"Wanda!"_

She stalks out of the kitchen, meets Geraldine's eyes.

"What are you doing here?" she hisses. The ache in her body is gone, only the thrumming desire to hurt. “How did you get in here?”

_"Wanda, my name is Monica Rambaeu- This whole thing is about Black Widow, and if you can revive the Vision as well-“_

_"Get out of my house!”_

_“Hayward is trying to bring her to their side, and bring him back to life and you’ve proven you can-“_

_“Shut up! I don’t want to hear about that! DON’T YOU DARE SPEAK ABOUT THEM!”_ She lifts the woman through the air, eyes lit blood red. _“The drones. The missiles! Pietro!”_

_“No, no, no! Pietro wasn’t us!”_

_“ALL YOU DO IS LIE!”_ She slams the woman to the ground. Her heart catches as Monica stops herself, looking up with bright blue eyes. Then the fury surges again. She’s had quite _enough_ of these knock off supers! She’s the apex predator. Her eyes are scarlet as she clenches her fists.

_“The only lies I’ve told are the ones you put in my mouth,”_ Monica spits, straightening up.

_“Careful what you say to me.”_ Red builds in her hands.

_“Do it then. Take me out,_ _"_ Monica goads. Wanda hesitates, the exhaustion creeping back in. _“See, that’s what Hayward wants! Don’t let him make you a villain!”_

She loses her breath as she hisses, _“Maybe I already am.”_

The women size each other up. Then, _“Wanda, I have lost more than you know. I don’t know if I want to live without this grief-“_

Agnes intervenes at just the right time. The red leaves her. Monica asks her to bring it down. Bring her _world_ down. Her and Natasha's world. Her kids' world!

_“No,”_ she spits, looking after her shoulder as Agnes tugs her along, “Don’t _make me hurt you.”_

* * *

Natasha never considered how much Wanda had gone through and in such a short amount of time. _What am I doing in this fucking truck?_ She springs into action, kicking the door open, hitting the pavement in a summersault, before getting to her feet and sprinting towards their _home_.

* * *

Wanda, with her nerves fried, allows Agnes to guide her to her house, sits her down on her couch next to a bunny rabbit that must be the affectionately named Senior Scratchy.

_“Can I get you to eat?”_ Agnes asks, still clucking her tongue over the scene that had just unfolded outside.   
_“Uh, no thanks, Agnes, I’m okay,”_ Wanda breathes, stroking a hand down the rabbit’s back.   
_“Anything to drink? I’ve got good liquor!”_

_“Oh…”_ She blinks. See’s Monica’s eyes lit up blue. Sees indigo. Sees hair red as - blood - fire. _fire_. _“Yes, please.”_

_“I’ll be right back with that. Ai yi yi.”_ Agnes walks off.

Wanda surveys the room, takes in the half eaten sandwiches and kid’s show on the screen.

_“Agnes, where are the kids?”_

_“Oh, they’re probably just playing in the basement,”_ Agnes calls back.

She stands, walks towards a door beckoning like a siren. _“Boys?”_ she calls down into the dark as she walks down the stairs. _“Tommy? Billy?”_ There are black vines clinging to the walls as she finds herself in a narrow, winding hallway. Then, the room opens up.

She barely has enough time to realize what she’s looking at before the door slams shut behind her. _“Wanda, Wanda, Wanda. You didn’t think you were the only magical girl in town, did you?”_ Wanda turns, meets Agnes’s gaze, as her neighbor stalks forward, stroking a heavy hand over Senior Scratchy. She’s alone. No Natasha. No Tommy or Billy. _“The name’s Agatha Harkness,”_ Agatha goes on, _“Lovely to finally meet you, dear.”_

Wanda wants to scream. Then her vision goes indigo, the last sight Natasha must have seen as she soared through the air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for being patient! I just started working full time, so it took me a bit to start writing this chapter. this episode was so short so I wanted to expand on it a little (and also, someone commented on ff.n if I could make the chapters longer so I tried to push myself a bit with this one. I did exhaust myself by writing a 3500 word fit for doctor who, so... the ending is a bit rushed) and I had to rewatch it a couple of times, because at some points I really did want to use the original show lines, and while this started from Wanda's POV primarily, I had to go into Natasha and Darcy. off to watch episode 8 finally! enjoy!


	9. Previously On

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to say thank you guys all so much for the kind comments <3 it means so much to me knowing that people enjoy my writing! that being the case, fair warning this newest episode proved a bit tricky, but I hope you all enjoy nonetheless!

Natasha Romanov is running. Her head is screaming; cotton is melting out, letting noise in, the heavy fog that had rolled through her brain lifting. Cars swerve around her. She vaults over them with expert agility. Each stride echoes louder, louder, louder. Memories come flooding back. She launches herself over and under tables of a neighborhood street fair, around all the roadblocks that stand to challenge her. Her costume flickers on her, changing shade, pattern, texture. Until she’s in what she was wearing the day she died. Black Widow isn’t just a nickname Wanda would refer to her as off-handedly. She is _the_ Black Widow, one of Earth’s mightiest heroes. More importantly, she is Wanda Maximoff’s wife, lover, best friend, _protector_. Natasha Romanov runs faster.

* * *

Wanda Maximoff can’t scream. She wants to get Agatha to scream. The witch grins at her, _“Oh, that’s adorable, toots. My thoughts aren’t available to you. Never were.”_

She grits her teeth, spits, _“Were are my children?”,_ accent thick, as it always is when there’s fire in her in her veins, blood on her hands. Agatha only mocks her.

 _“Where are my children?”_ she repeats, going to toss the witch back. Agatha only smirks again.  
 _“Your magic’s no good here. Didn’t you notice?”_

And then she’s bound by indigo. She tastes blood in her mouth at the color.

 _“You know, I tried to get information from you. Through your brother, Pietro. Well, Fietro. Hard to get your real brother’s body when it’s on another continent.”_ Agatha leans in close, she smells rot, _“Not to mention, full of bullet holes.”_

Wanda clenches her jaw, meets her gaze, tries her best to be unbreakably strong. For her children. For her Natasha.

_“How did you do it, Wanda? What’s your secret, sister? Where is all this magic coming from?”_

_“I didn’t do anything. I’m not a-“_ the word ‘witch’ gets lost as Agatha knocks her against the walls like a rag doll. The impact frees a memory she wants to keep buried: knocking Natasha off Clint Barton and into the side of an airplane.

 _“What is it you said to your not-brother?”_ Agatha taunts, _“All you remember is the feeling? Let’s start there._ _It’s been fun playing pretend for a while, hasn’t it, Wanda?”_ The witch plucks a hair from her head, murmurs latin over it, and casts it into a door that Wanda swears was not there a moment ago. She inhales deep as the door shimmers, changes into her apartment door from her childhood. Her heart hammers against her chest, and her nose fills with the smell of ash and cinder. _“But it’s time to look at some real reruns.”_ She drops to the ground, panting. Agatha knocks her heel against her shin. _“Let’s go.”_

 _“No,”_ Wanda growls, so desperately trying to force red to her hands.

_“Oh? May I remind you who has whose kids locked in her enchanted basement?”_

The room echoes with the cries of her children and she’s on her feet in an instant, fists clenched.

 _“Showtime,”_ Agatha chuckles, and her childhood home door opens, _“After you, superstar.”_

* * *

It’s like an ice cold bucket of water dumped over her head. Her teeth chatter, goosebumps crawl up her flesh, and her eyes are locked on the scene in front of her. Her _parents,_ in love, as they once were. Before her whole world was torn through, a bullet through flesh. _“Why are we here?”_ she breathes.  
 _“You tell me,”_ Agatha returns.

Pietro, all those years ago, ran into the room. She notices the tears as they brush the edges of her mouth, salt and pain. Her brother called for Wanda, calls for _her_ , and Agatha pushes her forward. Launched headfirst through time, she ran into her father’s arms, demanded her favorite TV show for movie night. It was one hundred perfect seconds, she remembers, before everything went black. Ash floated through the air, tinged with the smell of burning flesh. Then her brother grabbed her, pulling her under the table. She remembers this. Long buried hatred for Tony Stark flares in her belly. _“At the end of the episode, you realize it was all a dream,”_ she said in her native tongue, _“None of it was real.”_

Something pulls her from this nightmare, backwards through a tunnel, away from the light.  
 _“Did you stop that bomb?”_ Agatha’s voice pierces through the fog in her brain.

 _“What?”_ she gasps, head pounding.

_“You used a probability hex?”_

_“No, I…_ _It just never went off. It was defective. We didn’t know that. We were trapped.”  
“For how long?”_

 _“Two days.”_ The inside of Stark’s head still comes to her; the Earth’s mightiest heroes, bloodied, bruised, _dead_. As her parents had been, buried under the rubble. Her brother. Her friend. Her wife.

_“Huh… So much trauma. And yet? You were safe as kittens the whole time. So what I see here is a baby witch, obsessed with sitcoms and years of therapy ahead of her. Doesn’t explain your recent hijinks.”_

_I was just a normal girl!_ she cries, biting her tongue to hold it in.

Agatha stalks forward into the room, raises an eyebrow at her. _“Where did you get the big guns, Wanda?”_

Her body reacts before she even understands what she’s looking at, recoiling. She’s anything but powerful as her voice shakes,

 _“I don’t want to go back there.”  
“I know you don’t, pet. But it’s good medicine, isn’t it? The only way forward is back.” _And the door to the Hydra cell opens. It beckons her forward and she listens against all instincts.

* * *

 _“We wanted to change the world,”_ she tells Agatha, walking forward, her past mirroring her. The voice was dull, dismissive, commanded her to _“Touch the sample.”_ She took a few steps forward, and then her whole life changed. Blue casing shattered, revealed a burning yellow. The stone chose _her_. The yellow fireworks exploded across her vision as she saw the silhouette of someone beyond her imagination, beyond her dreams, arms spread wide, welcoming her forward. And then it went dark. She came to in her cell, dizzy, and, for the first time in a long time, feeling stronger. The TV was too loud. So, naturally, she turned it off, staring at her reflection from far away.

 _“So, little orphan Wanda got up close and personal with an Infinity Stone that amplified what, otherwise, would have died on the vine,”_ Agatha speculates, _“The broken pieces of you are adding up, buttercup.”_

The illusion dips in waves around her, like six drinks at a party, her feet scrabbling to get purchase. _Shut up_ , she begs in her head, _turn it_ off. _Make it_ stop _! You don’t know a single thing about me_. Yet, her history unravels in front of this stranger, this _witch_ , who knows her better than anyone ever could. Her cerebrum refuses her words. _“I have a theory,”_ Agatha continues, _“But I need more.”_

* * *

Wanda walks through the next door on shaky legs. They are in a room. _Her_ room.

 _“Where are we now?”_ Agatha asks, looking at her out of the corner of her eye.

 _“The Avengers Compound,”_ she gasps, _“This is the first home Natasha and I ever shared. Pietro was dead. I was in a new country. I was all alone…”_

She was sitting on the bed, a few weeks after Pietro had died. A few weeks after she took the assassin’s hand for the first time. Her head turned towards the door. _“Natasha,”_ she called to it, and the door opened. Natasha stood there, a sheepish grin on her face. _“How do you do that?”_ Natasha asked, leaning against the frame. Wanda remembers Natasha’s t-shirt that night, a faded Russian band tee, tucked into jeans, which she only wore in the Compound.

_“Do what?”_

_“Know when I’m outside.”_

_“Because I know you.”_ The women eyed each other, and it’s as if she can still hear their heartbeats, fast and excited, like kids.

 _“Am I intruding?”_ Natasha asked, shifting her weight backwards into the hallway. Wanda shook her head.

_“Never. You can’t sleep, either?”_

_“Baby, I gave up on sleep a long time ago.”_ It was the first pet name Natasha ever called her. The first sign that she had begun breaking down the wall that surrounded the seasoned Widow. She flushed, patted the spot next to her. Natasha crossed the room and sat without hesitation, _“What are we watching?”_

_“Seinfield.”_

_“You really love your sitcoms.”_ Natasha sat close enough she could feel the heat from her skin.

 _“It was how I learned a lot of my English.”_ She looked at her, the shape of her curls, nose, slid her hand over so their pinkies touched.

_“I never had much time to watch any…”_

_“How did you learn?”_  
 _“A lot of electric shock tactics and yelling.”_ The uncensored honesty was another sign of those defenses breaking. It hit Wanda like a punch to the chest. _“But at least I know 15 languages, right?”_

 _“I’m so sorry,”_ she breathed in Sokovian.

 _“It’s okay. I try not to think about it much,”_ Natasha returned in Wanda’s native tongue. Wanda’s blush deepened. The assassin switched back to English. _“I guess we were both science experiments, huh?”_

She nodded, slowly. There had been many nights she had been fed information about the woman next to her, and many nights she had poured over any information she could get her hands on, to learn _more_. Maybe… just maybe… Natasha could help her learn to deal with her own overwhelming grief.

 _“How do you do it?”_ she asked, feeling the tears well in her eyes, _“How do you get through each day?”_

Natasha’s eyes flashed, a meek smile graced the corner of her lips. _“Eventually, you get so used to it, you go numb. You_ have _to go numb. Since joining the Avengers, I’ve felt better but… there’s still a lot of red in my ledger. Because of me. Or because of what I’ve lost.”_ Natashas eyes bored into her, and she was truly seen for the first time.  
 _“I miss Pietro more than any language can express. This grief… It keeps knocking me over. Like a wave. And every time I stand back up, there it is again. Ready to drown me. I don’t know how to live like this.”_

Natasha nodded slowly. _“You’ve seen inside my head. You know what happened to me in the Red Room.”_ The statement lacked judgement, the edges round with relief, Wanda noted, in not having to say the horrors out loud. It was a privilege to know the Black Widow’s head so intimately. _“I know there are other ways. And I know it is far easier to get through each day without people to care for. But I’m not who I was then anymore. I... care for people now. I still mourn the children I could have had… But you know what I tell myself?”_

_“What?”_

_“What is grief if not love persevering.”_

Wanda opened her mouth, unsure of what to say next, ready to drown in Natasha instead of grief. Natasha broke eye contact to turn to the TV, where _shenanigans_ were happening. The woman laughed, shoulders shaking, and it was the most beautiful sound Wanda had ever heard.

 _“That was funny, right?”_ Natasha asked, turning to look at her again, laughter still in her voice. Wanda nodded, cheeks pink. She remembers the exact moment she thought they were going to kiss; Natasha’s cheeks pink as well. The moment passed as fast as it came, as Natasha looked back at the TV, and Wanda decided it was best not to push, fearing rejection anyway. Natasha’s hand took hers. And she held on tight.

It still takes her breath away. Her hand reaches out, years later, for Natasha’s, for the gentle curl of her hair, the curve of her hip. The tears are hot and thick down her face. And then it’s gone.

* * *

 _“So to recap,”_ Agatha speaks, jarring her from the memory, _“Parents dead, brother dead,_ Natasha _dead. What happened when she wasn’t there to pull you back from the darkness, Wanda?”_

 _“I can’t do this anymore,”_ she rasps.

 _“Come on, Wanda! You’re on the precipice. You are right there! Tell me how you did it!”_ Agatha encroaches in her space again, breath hot in her ear. Her blood boils. _“Natasha was gone. But you. Wanted. Her. Back.”_

The primal animal in her snaps. _“I wanted her back,”_ she hisses in agreement. Agatha turns her head, Wanda’s gaze follows. It’s the door to the Barton ranch. _“I wanted her back.”_

Wanda doesn’t just walk through this door. She takes it by storm.

* * *

 _“You can’t just go to Vormir,”_ Clint told her, pacing in tight circles around the room, a gazelle. Wanda circles on the perimeter of the Barton ranch living room, a lioness.

 _“Why not?”_ she spat back, _“Was she not your best friend, too? Did she not_ sacrifice _herself to save_ you _?”_

He turned, jabbed a finger towards her, _“Don’t you_ dare _blame me for this. Natasha would have_ never _let me-“_

 _“You should have done it_ anyways _!”_

_“And leave my wife and kids with no father?”_

_“What wife and kids? They were just as much dust as I was.”_ Wanda hissed, posed to strike, _“Maybe then someone would feel half of what I feel. I came back and she was_ gone _!”_

 _“You weren’t there, Wanda! You have no idea what happened.”  
“Don’t I?” _She snatched him out of his stride, slammed him into the closest chair, pressed him down, eyes blood red, _“So then tell me what happened, Clint? You played rock, paper, scissors to decide who jumped to his or her death?”  
“I’d never trivialize-“  
“No! What happened was you were too selfish to go. You didn’t think about how the world needed her. How _I _need her!”_

He struggled against her hold, gasping as he said, _“So what are you going to do, then? Where are you going to get the technology to get there? And what are you going to do when you get there? I don’t think the Red Skull is particularly fond of some little baby’s Ps and Qs to get her girlfriend back.”_

 _“Watch what you fucking say to me!”_ And his mouth jammed shut. She stalked forward, blood roaring in her head. She leaned real close, grinned as he tried to flinch away but couldn’t. _“You don’t scare me, Barton. None of you can lay a fucking finger on me. The only one who ever could is_ dead _. But you all know whose side he would have been on_. _”_ She released her hold, spun on her heels and strode to the door.

 _“Wanda, if you find out you’re able to do something like this…”_ Clint rasped behind her. She could hear him heave himself out of the chair. _“If S.H.E.I.L.D. or S.W.O.R.D. finds out that you’re capable of this-“  
“Who’s going to tell them? You?” _She looked over her shoulder, silhouetted by the sun sinking below the horizon. A man she thought was her friend tightened his jaw, met her gaze. The fear she saw sent delicious shivers down her spine. She clenched her fists and the windows shattered. From a far away place, she could hear Laura scream outside. _“Rot in Hell, Clint Barton.”_ And then she was gone, already in her car. The GPS was autoset for the Avengers’ Compound. She floored it, eyes lit, the whole way there.

They’re standing on Vormir now. She watches herself, a vision of scarlet, as she tore the ground from the planet. She took the chunk of Earth to Westview, a forgotten city in New Jersey. The perfect place to run away. They had once lay under the covers, marveling at the deed to a plot of land. _“One day, the Earth won’t need us anymore. We’ll retire here, adopt a bunch of babies and cats and dogs. We’ll grow old here,”_ Natasha had said, stroking the paper, looking so soft into her soul. It was always hard to remember that the assassin was just that much more human than her. Wanda vowed she would always protect her. She had failed. She remembers this part now, collapsing onto the ground, the weight of years of mourning crumbling her. She cried, angry, alone, Sokovia after Pietro’s death all over again. She hadn’t realized what she was doing as her powers exploded out from her, building their dream house out of the foundation that rested there. Then it spread, turning everything black and white like her favorite Dick Van Dyke show episode. They should have been born at a different time, in a different place, where war wouldn’t tear them apart, suck the humanity and life from them.

The extraterrestrial ground shook as a world took shape around them. The world where they could be together again. Bit by bit, it crumbled, becoming the rug underneath her feet. And as it did so, the inside lit up yellow. Her eyes squeezed shut as her powers flowed faster, chipping away, until a body emerged. Muscles filled in, clothes repaired, life returning, all ending with the crown of hair red as the blood that stained the ground as the assassin died. The Black Widow uniform changed as this new world welcomed her in, a sharp and feminine suit. Wanda opened her eyes, reigned her powers in. And there she was. Natasha. _Her_ Natasha, grinning from ear to ear.

 _“Wanda,”_ Natasha murmured, _“Welcome home, my love. Should we stay in tonight?”_

Tears pricked Wanda’s eyes as she nodded, drawn to her other half like a magnet. Natasha pulled her in, tight, sat her on her lap as they shared their first kiss in forever.

* * *

Wanda blinks as lights flood the room, buzzing loud. Someone is clapping. The illusion shatters, and she’s standing in the middle of the living room, alone, searching for the source of the noise. Agatha is clapping from the audience stands. _“Brava!”_ Agatha calls, and vanishes in a plume of smoke. Tommy and Billy’s cries for help reach her ears again, ripping her out of disorientation. She scrambles for the exit, racing onto the street. Her boys, her and Natasha’s boys, are being choked by Agatha’s magic. They scream for her, scream for Natasha. Her eyes light, fire - no, _blood_ red.

 _“I know what you are,”_ Agatha calls, in full ancient regalia, levitated above them all. The boys gag, tugging at the magical ligatures.

 _“It’s okay, babies, it’s okay,”_ she tells her sons, stepping forward.

_“You have no idea how dangerous you are. You’re supposed to be a myth! A being capable of spontaneous creation, and here you are, using it to make breakfast for dinner.”_

_“Let go of my children,”_ Wanda commands, rolling her powers between her fingers.

_“Oh yes, your children. And Natasha, and this whole little life you’ve made, this is Chaos Magic, Wanda. And that makes you the Scarlet Witch.”_

The words sink into her, settle in like old bones, old neurological pathways waking up. Wanda stands taller, breathes deeper, feels her clothing flicker. Sweatshirt and pants fizzle, burning from the inside out. It shocks her. She can’t help but smile as her suit dons itself on her. Her scarlet jacket ripples in the wind. And there, in Agatha’s eyes, she can see that vision that first came to her from the Mind Stone.

A goddess in scarlet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so basically, here was my thinking on how to change vision out for Wanda, but still have duck hayward be involved: Hayward (SWORD) finds out what Wanda is capable of from Clint, then they go to Westview to see proof of it for themselves. Darcy discovers the broadcast and they see the Black Widow walking. They lose their shit bc they realize Wanda can bring their fake Vision to “life”. Idk I couldn’t think of anyone who would turn her in that she would also feel comfortable opening up to post Endgame. 
> 
> I wanted to add some reaction to the scarlet witch comment at the end, so if I ended up writing myself into a corner when the last episode comes out... I may delete it 🤭 we shall see.
> 
> I'm not exactly sure how I'm going to handle the series finale, so if it doesn't even run parallel to the canon, I'm sorry in advance, but I guess we'll see! that likely will take a couple of weeks.

**Author's Note:**

> look we all know Wanda and Natasha are the ultimate couple so... this was just a before breakfast short piece I wanted to write. let me know if you want me to do a couple more pieces from WandaVision!


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